


No Consolation

by valtyr



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: M/M, Necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-26
Updated: 2010-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valtyr/pseuds/valtyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Extremis lies to Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Consolation

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately post The Confession. Character death as canon.

"It wasn't worth it," said Tony, on a defeated sigh.

There was nothing. He had hoped, when he finally told Steve, that the aching pain of incompletion would leave him. But there was nothing; the deep empty bewildered ache was somehow worse. The tears were drying on his face and his eyes were dry and scratchy.

He stood up, and looked down at Steve's face. Flecks of blood, bruising. Nothing he hadn't seen before, on Steve's face. He was reminded, suddenly, of the time when Steve had been gassed, when Tony had looked at his torn lips and been able to bring him back to life with a kiss...

Steve's lips were cold under his. The choking fear welled up in him, and he couldn't wrestle it back, because this time it was true, this time Steve was really dead, and there was nothing he could do to himself to fix it. Too late for that.

He pulled off one gauntlet, and gave a command to Extremis. When he laid his golden hand on Steve's cheek, the underarmour warmed slightly, and he could pretend that Steve was sleeping, that he'd come home from a fight and lain down and closed his eyes, and any moment - he shut his eyes, and the data feed showed him Steve, blinking his blue eyes, squinting up contentedly at Tony. The sunlight sheeting through the huge windows of the penthouse, illuminating him, all soft golds and blues.

Tony opened his eyes, and Steve lay there, cold and pale in the fluorescent lights. He shut his eyes again, fumbled the other gauntlet off, slipped his fingers through the tear in the scale and felt the heat there. Not quite right... a faint pulse sent through the underarmour mimicked a heartbeat. The Extremis obligingly altered its reports, told him that Steve was sleeping under his hands, breaths too shallow to feel.

"Steve," he said quietly, and the Extremis played him a little snuffly sigh that he didn't remember but was somehow distinctively Steve, shifting in his sleep. He pulled his hand free from the scales, and then tugged at the stripes where they tucked into the blue leather and slipped his hand over the slack muscles, heat in his palm.

Other hand back on Steve's cheek, and when he touched his lips, they felt warm.

"Steve," he said again, and a faint hum of response sounded in his ear, vibrated in his fingertips.

A thought, and the armour fell away; he straddled Steve, felt heat bleeding into him wherever gold touched Steve's body. He kept his eyes shut, and saw Steve's eyelashes flutter, and close again. He rested his cheek against the scales, cool metal and blunt edges. Steve smelled of leather and metal and sweat, the copper-salt of blood.

He could feel the warmth of Steve's body, the slow steady heartbeat. Hear soft shallow breaths, and the occasional sigh. Extremis consoled him, lied to him, and Tony slowly rolled his hips against Steve, heard him catch his breath. He kept his head down, no sight of Steve's smile or sleepy eyes, just listened to his breath and his blood and rubbed himself against Steve.

For a few seconds, he was almost convinced, sticky and blissful, Steve's voice softly saying his name. He lifted his head, eyes tight shut.

When he kissed Steve, his lips were cold.


End file.
